Je n ai jamais compris l amour (Translated into English)
by Kyle Saxon
Summary: In a timeless, grey and dirty Paris, Francis Bonnefoy remembers Joan of Arc when suddenly, a florist woman come close to the Frenchman, offering him a bouquet of lilies. He realizes that she is the spitting image of his beloved
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, ladies and gentlemen, this is the first time that I translate one of my fics into English so forgive me for committing so many spelling mistakes, it´s not my mother tongue. I´ve decided to separate the fic in two parts, in order to translate it better. Please if you see that something is written in a wrong way, inform me. I´ll be very thankful for it.**

**Hope you like it!**

**Regards!**

**Je nái jamais compris l´amour (translated into English)**

_"Hello, blue eyes" _

Across the Avenue of the Champs-Elysees to Concorde Square, Francis was standing there making mentally mythological parallels between the river Lethe and the great length of the landscaped Boulevard. There, in that Ethereal place of the underworld rested souls more virtuous that there was in life and wondered if the bore of the mortal who believed forgotten, would wander now by retailers stationed along the most famous way of wanted to believe it; her soul had gone through hell on Earth. Burned against the will of God and the people, Joanne of Arc would have found a way that would lead him to forget such painful aftermath, bathing in the crystal clear and pure waters of Lethe.

_La plus belle avenue du monde,_thought Francis releasing a sigh to the dull atmosphere of the city, watching cars, oh hell and noisy steeds of the , that street, including the city, had ceased to remove this attractant glare inviting lovers to explore each span of pavement, each district or shop, each park and historic monument. Paris looked older, more off than ever. Most worn which was never before and was that stench at end and nostalgia that oozed of sewage and the glow of the Seine which is getting through the nostrils of passers-by. Rain, though gentle, covered it and wore everything, like a tedious curtain lasting days insisting on wet and dirty grey and beige walls of adjoining days of routine in the city of light. That was it facing each day Francis passed through that part of the metropolitan city. It was as if the color had hidden worldly rain, angry and haughty to the tonality of soot that had been taking hold of everything in its path.

He had spent much time as so that the memory of her remained.

"_Ma Jeanne_, I see you in every face, in every mirror in each ad where the beautiful women exhibit their best faces to sell some poultice without effect or benefit. But all of them are empty. They are vulgar housings of fleeting beauty that is wrinkled with time while you remain alive, full of light, impossible to fold..." thought the French lighting a cigarette against the window of a pharmacy. He gave a deep surface warships to the poisonous nicotine cylinder and felt that his lungs were poisoning itselves of that toxic cloud of smoke which, in a contradictory manner, soothed his torn heart.

" Do you want a flower, sir?"said a gentle singing voice behind him.

Francis turned around expecting to see another young saleswoman, perfect companion for which would be that it would be another night of loneliness filled by an unknown woman lying between pleasurable moans wrapped in silk garnet sheets, but it was wrong.

There, after a rusty flower truck , a girl with short blond hair and bright sapphire eyes offered a lily to him, heraldic flower of the nation.

His everlasting heart pumped blood more forcefully that never while he saw that the living image of her Warrior maid offered buy the Fleur de lis. There was, wherethe color was hidden where the chromatic had gathered to reveal, like the X in a treasure map, the exact location of his beloved.

God, in his eternal wisdom, had been guarding his soul on the Champs-Elysées until, by the force of fate, he had resurrected it in the form of a naive street vendor. Francis tried to answer nervously:

"No, thank you. I have to go I..." He wanted to flee. _Why do you want to flee, you coward rat?_ Francis asked himself not believing that after having been looking for her forever, then he would leave the young lady behind

"Are you sure you don't want to? They are discounted, sir"insisted the girl sensing with insight that she should not let him go.

Cigarette shook in his hand and he had to release it so that the ashes did not fall in his attire and ran the same fate as the young woman who he´d loved. The tailpiece was lost in sloshed street grime.

_I do not want to disappoint you, don't come near me_

That thought was throbbing in his temple as the drums which gave way to the death in the danse macabre of Saint-Saëns. Melody joined his mind, parasitic harbinger of misfortune. Francis needed to get out of there. But had to stay as being unpleasant and monstrous before that angel who regaled him with floral gifts?

"You know what? carry a bouquet to your beloved. And if she likes it, you can come here again"she said tenderly and candor while she gathered the finest examples of lillies and tended them to Francis, who watched her unblinking."consider it a gift from the House..."

"I don't think that's necessary, I don't love any woman"wavering, he stretched his arm and caught his cornflower gift.

She looked at him blankly, pale.

"But sir, it is impossible to believe it! You seem so...

"Seductive?" ended the Frenchman, trying to seem cynical"Miss,it flatters me but I am afraid that it is not so. I´ve never understood love. And now if you excuse me, I have rushed.

With a forced smile and a reverence of yesteryear, Francis tried to escape the young innocent, returning the bouquet. She contracted the face in a look of sadness, seeing as the man rejected those delicate corollas of sky, which seemed to wilt when they returned to her hands.

"You're just a coward, a ruin crapula fleeing of true love, fearing to tie up" seemed to say the lilies, furiously. "She has become to you, why don't you take it?"

"Listen ..."the surrender to the Kingdom of heaven finally arrived. Francis turned around and tried to apologize for his earlier conduct."I've behaved like a jerk and I would make up for it. How much do owe you for the bouquet?"

He wanted to pay in cash, but the girl prevented him with a new smile that illuminated the wet heart of the Frenchman, inevitably permeated by rain drops.

"It´s free, don't bother. It´s a present I want to give to you" She was so sweet , he couldn´t resist her magical spell. He wanted to be haunted again. Give up everything he had for a kiss from her fleshy lips of cream.

Francis aspired the scent of lilies which seem lively and full of colour, it was as if they held his decision; not to flee again.

" How should I take this gift? -"the Frenchman dared to ask .

"Let's just say that ypu give me a very familiar feeling. You are very close-to me" a blush appeared on the cheeks of the young woman. She pulled out of her apron a blue card grana and held it out to her customer"I'm Jeannette, and this is the address of my florist. If you want to go again, I will be delighted to receive you. Safe then, you already will have understood love."

I have it before me. But I need to know if you feel the same. Francis said those words in his mind as he kept the address on his suit jacket

"Could... would you like to dine with me today at Ladurée?" asked Francis, losing this old fox security.

Jeannette´eyes opened as two blue porcelain plates

"To the Ladurée? Oh I could not, is too expensive, I..."

"I insist. They also have the best macarons de Paris. It would be a shame that someone as sweet as you not try them." " sweet? Really? Francis, boy, you can do so much better" he thank himself. But she was not a nymphomaniac hooker who needed to placate his sexual instincts with him. Neither was a rich widow in need of young meat. She was a... demons can I courting an Angel? "my name is Francis, by the way. I had lost my manners with my attempt to run away from you."

Jeannette laughed at that comment, with a sound similar to the song of a Nightingale. Small bird of night which sings to the dawn.


	2. Chapter 2

He hated driving the car but there was no choice if he wanted to take her to Ladurée healthy and dry. When he moved by the store at the time of closing, she was ready to dive into the nightlife of the capital. Wearing an elegant white straight cut dress with French sleeve embroidered voilé emulating the fins of fish that surround her thin dress flattered her figure and accentuated her feminine curves. . When he saw her surrounded by flowers, he saw emerge a Venus from her shell, a Aphrodite, pure as the water that the Spring gave birth.

"Is something wrong? Did I not go well for the occasion?" asked Jeannette concerned about the puzzled expression of his companion.

"You are... perfect..."He didn't want to perpetuate the time and they came out to the car, to go to the restaurant.

The food was delicious, the Burdeaux excellent, and the tray of macaroons for dessert, tastier if it was.. But Francis was not paying attention to the food that were bringing and taking the pace of a slower camera .His view was fixed in the delicate line of the neck of the young, which caressed his earring distracted while the pianist executed a jazz solo, possibly any part without importance of Thelonious Monk . That neck of a Swann Princess, of an Assumption Madonna into heaven, was everything for him in those moments .He, who had seen the most beautiful things on the planet, which had suffered countless battles going on in front of him as the coil of a cinematograph, considered all that trash compared to the delicate curve of the throat of Jeannette . He sipped his drink, distracted. She smiled when she saw Francis look at her carefully

"In what are you thinking about, Francis?" she asked.

"Nothing... I was just walking the view for you. I wonder what kind of purpose had God when he made you down from heaven to this mundane city..."explained Francis smiling sincerely, because he really wondered.

"Maybe he wanted to find me with you and pay me a delicious dinner"replied the girl picking up her glass of red and bringing it to her lips.

"Maybe..."

"_Remember me. I´m Francis. Damn it, Jeanne, do you not remember me, love of my life?! Why don´t you recognize me?_" It was like agonizing distress signals that Francis threw from time to time to her, between sighs of love who was trying to conceal, plunging into alcoholic red tides of his wine.

"Now that we know better, it seems somewhat out of place which we continue trying to use you, don´t you think?"asked Jeannette posing her hand over his hand. Francis wanted to grab her, but he knew that that would have been very daring for his part.

"It´s curious but once a woman exactly told me to change my treatment with her, because we already knew us better"said Francis feeling as the wine clouded his senses and glazed his diamond eyes.

"You said before that there was no woman"said Jeannette, trying to chop him, suspicious.

"And there´s not. Not since long time ago... "The veil which separated dream and reality, was inexorably frying. But he could not scare her at that moment, because he was not sure that the young lady was the same Jeanne he met in the past, he couldn´t lose her again.

"You said that you have never understood love." the florist smile to him with an innocent gesture "frankly I'm glad that you've wanted to share that with was she?"

"She was..."blessed Alcohol, you do that the drunk seemed the most honest mortal in the world."like you... I'm sorry, I'm a little dizzy..."

"Are you okay, do you want me to call a doctor?"asked Jeannette alarmed, but Francis reassured her.

"It's nothing, don't worry" he outlined a smile and massaging his temples, he continued.-was a sweet beautiful woman like the light of dawn on the countryside. And their eyes... those two sapphires of perfection..

"My God...She must be a wonderful young lady as you describe her. But what happened to make you lose her?."The young woman didn´t want to pressure the man who had invited her to dinner, but an unhealthy curiosity had taken over her will, and wanted to know in detail all about Francis.

-Was all very sudden...-He tried to apologize, deeply regretted for a cause that was unaware of the florist. She proposed getting the check and get out of there as soon as possible. Francis did not seem to be well

Again, he came to be at the mercy of a binge, as the day after Juana de Arco was burned alive before the indifferent eyes of the populace. He drank for the same reason that he did long ago: to forget. But how to do it if the spitting image of Joanne of Arc was in front of you?

"Jeannette, I..." a flush of shame invaded his cheeks.

"I think the wine makes you feel terrible. It will be better that we walk a little, and it will pass away."recommended theflorist with the delicacy of a mother stroking the wavy blond hair of his companion.

Taking him by the waist, she guided him down the Avenue, as once did Jeanne with him, because he was very badly injured. It was the first time that he kissed a mortal in the midst of a looked determined and he, with a heart full of love, wrapped her in his arms, dying and being reborn every time their lips met. The war was useless, futile the life. The natural beauty, vulgar and offensive. Everything melted in the chaos of that kiss. Let there be light, said the Maker.

_She´s my inner light._

They walked far and far away. The rain had abated and the streets recovered their differences that the grey of the storm had snatched them, making them equal in the eyes of the passerby.

They reached the street Georges Pompidou, connected at right angles with one of the older bridges in the capital; the Pont Marie, direct link to the island of witness of comings and goings through the centuries, was bathed in the silt of the river Seine. It seemed that it called for the two lovers to cross it while a bateau-mouche, passed under its arches blackened by the erosion of the elements.

The sky clear of clouds, discovered its twinkling treasures of hydrogen and stopped in the middle of the viaduct and found that Francis could keep standing.

"The River will make you feel better soon."said the lady who again passed his hand free of rings from the harsh face of Francis. He brushed it slowly and gently, fanning in the man a feeling of which there were only embers

A silver tear sprang from his eye and fell hard on the knuckles of the girl shocked by this fact

"Francis, what happens?"

"The woman who made me understand the love, left me a vacuum impossible to replace. I've tried with many women, with many wines, but nothing couldn´t cure it ."Francis fastened Jeannette´s hand to prevent her to took off from his anguished face. "It can only be reset with the same woman that they took me away

"How? I think that you should talk to this woman until you keep doing you harm..."

"It won´t be necessary to go very far, because you are the woman I want to talk to " dropped Francis finally breathing with difficulty, like a dog with a flattened nose.

"I do not understand, it´s impossible to...

It was time, he had to tell her all at the risk of losing her forever.

"You are the light over the countryside at dawn, that look that discerns between light and darkness. I've been looking for you so long that I had lost hope... Jeanne D'Arc" _Alea jacta est_, internally groaned Francis while he was holding her hands, kissing her knuckles with a tenderness that didn´t know barriers. The moon lit up that part of Paris on the bridge where the couple had stopped, which gave the girl an almost spectral beauty. _The Virgin María goes to climb together with his son_, please don´t go, not now. And if she wasn't for him? And if only was crazy chasing a soul which belonged only and exclusively to the Almighty?

_But I love her, I need her again. Jeanne, comes back to me. Remember me!_

"Jeanne, you are the woman that I love. It has been a long time but, you have returned to me" oblivious to the will of his body, he knelt before the young blond short hair woman. Dam of compassion, she shed a river of tears because she thank she was unable to help his partner to get rid of all that sadness.

"How old are you...?" she asked with a bit of fear.

"I don´t know... I have lived too that I don´t remember it and my life will still exist but it will be empty as it is now. I just want to know if you will forgive me for what I did... I left you at their mercy I didn´t have time to save you from the flames..."

"Francis...Francis, quiet..."She also ducked and the mud of the sidewalk adhered to her pristine dress "you've done nothing wrong. Please do not blame on yourself for something that could not be avoided.

"You're the spitting image of my Jeanne D´Arc... you have to be her...!" how desperate he was to discover the ghost of his beloved among the body of the young girl.

"If it is true, God has given me the opportunity to live a life of peace that I was snatched. I've not been armor or lead armies. Now I only sell flowers and give happiness to people." she approached her face of Francis´, and wiped tears from his partner. "now, I think just make you happy. Leave the rest to your love of the past. She will bring in the Kingdom of the heights with his family and the Creator."

Jeannette finally understood the feeling of familiarity that Francis transmitted. It was no coincidence they´ve met that night. Neither, her secret phobia to Fireworks and fire, like the one which destroyed her family's House when she was little. Signals which gave the life, charged sense when she saw that broken man in tears, naming her as his Jeanne. Lapislazuli glitter eyes became clear when the moon lit up her face.

"That´s why I gave you a lily" She said, swaying with the hypnotic beams of light- it was the flower which I met you... already many centuries ago."

The dormant memories of another life came to light of the satellite. Francis lifted his face

"Jeanne?" stunned, he saw as the young woman smiled at him, adopting the same way as Jeanne D´Arc. The same curves in her face when she widening the corners of his lips...

"Hello blue eyes"

She approached him again and this time kissed his lips, which had a slight taste of wine. That entropy, as if the world was broken and formed in a millisecond, seized them in the Pont Marie.

Oh Moon, Goddess Selene, who came down to wake up the love of a poor Shepherd with a kiss, came to work for the triumph of that immortal feeling. So long had passed but its light had returned to trigger dozing memories of a love that has been truncated in disgrace.

The more he wrapped her in his arms, the more she remembered the feeling that had professed to him in the dark middle ages, where the only light there, was the lighthouse of God.

And if the love that she was looking for, did not belong to the divine? And whether Francis was the God who had been pursuing, and blind in an effort of metaphysical conquest, had despised him because he belonged to the land?

Paris, the capital where the light was the protagonist, had forgotten the most barbarous of all and it was that light which lit again the town with the beauty it has lost long ago.

They were there together again, kissing passionately on a bridge that looked like the union between two worlds.

"Always was you,after all ?" she asked.

"Always" he said between kisses.

Could already poisoning the world with aconite of war and could drop the Ancient Empires or smaller tribes. Already the world in depression and indifference could plunge; They didn't matter at hubbub of traffic and pedestrians that came to contemplate the night cleared after the storm, became the soundtrack for their most special in the metropolis had become brightness of stars, and the real Champs Elysees came to them from paradise.

_Jeanne had returned to it. And he would never lose her again._

_**Finis**_

* * *

><p><strong>I finally finished. I'm unhappy with the result because I've had to delete many things but I hope that you liked it, also. <strong>

**Thanks so much for reading!**


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